


Star Division

by CelestialSoot



Category: Ripper Street, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 13:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20489681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSoot/pseuds/CelestialSoot
Summary: H-Division meets the likes of Starfleet when the holodeck malfunctions, prompting the start of a potentially powerful allegiance, not to mention, many memorable friendships.





	Star Division

**Author's Note:**

> Several more chapters, coming soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything had its usual place in Whitechapel. Everything knew where it fit.
> 
> A grand order amongst the disorder.
> 
> But what Fred Best had just seen, was... not of this world.

He stood in the lobby, hunched forth, hand upon knee. As breathless as he were, his free hand held a cigarette, forked between gloved fingers. “I... I need... Reid.”

Bennet nonchalantly leaned up against the booking desk. He looked Best up and down, and laughed, all teeth. “Is that so, _muck-shoveler_?”

Sipping at his cup of hot, fresh brew, Artherton peered up over his glasses, squinting with disdain. “Inspector Reid has no time for the likes of you. Now, _bugger off_, back to your molly-house.”

“_No…_ “ Best panted. “He’ll want to hear this, Sergeant. _Please._.. “ His voice was weak, air desperately whistling into his lungs. Still, he took a deep drag on his cigarette, the ash falling to the floor, landing by his finely polished boot.

Bennet glared for a few seconds more, before looking at Artherton, the two of themshrugging their shoulders. He turned, and led Best up the stairs, a flurry of young constables rushing past in the opposite direction.

A knock at Reid’s office door...

“Sir...”

The door gently creaked open, two enquiring faces peering in.

The Inspector's head remained down, a clump of files scaling high upon his desk. Almost so high as to obscure his face. Papers, scattered about. Reports. Various photographs of evidence. Three empty tin mugs of coffee, there also. A plate of nibbled at, but now stale, bread and hardened cheese, gone green about the edges. An apple core, growing fur.

_This_, the result of Reid's obsessions.

“Inspector, I’ve just—“

“_Quiet,_ Best” He ordered, waving his hand.

They stood in the doorway, awkwardly waiting whilst Ed scrawled notes onto the margins of a document. He brought the paper closer to his face, sliding the tiny oval glasses up his nose, staring at the contents quizzically. A pause, followed by a loud huff, before he lowered the document to the table with a sense of resignation.

“_So,_ Bennet... why on _earth_ is this hacker in my station-house?”

Best stepped forward, sucking on his cigarette once more. The smoke plumes filled the office, a rare beam of afternoon sunlight splitting through the window, partly lighting his face in a golden ombre.

“Inspector, I saw something — some_one_ — unusual, acting suspicious likes… down on Dorset Street”

“Is that _so_, Best?” Reid leaned back in his chair, and tilted his head, examining the smaller man. “Whitechapel is full of the unusual, _and_ the suspicious, as you well know. What makes this something — some_one _— so extraordinary that you thought it warrant a visit to disturb _my_ division?”

Fred paused, before taking a seat. The chair screeched as he dragged it back on the wooden floor.

“Oh, go on then...“ Bennet scoffed. “Make yourself right at home. Shall I fetch you a cuppa tea? Some _biccies,_ Best?”

“_Inspector. Please_.” Fred continued, ignoring the Sergeant’s jabs entirely. “I _know_ what I saw."

“And what _did_ you see, precisely?”

“It was... a man... but not just _any_ man. His skin was gold, eyes yellow, and brighter than the sun. Expressionless face. Normal attire, for these parts, yet... looked out of place."

Reid scratched his chin, leaning forward, elbows pillowed by the piles of papers. “Yellow eyes and… _gold_… skin?” An incredulous frown, naturally, upon his face. “Honestly, Best… you expect me to believe such a thing?”

“_And_, what’s more — he had some kind of... weapon. Almost a gun, inspector. A gun, but... not the likes of one I’ve ever seen.”

“A gun... but _not_ a gun?”

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted them, bounding up the stairs. It shuddered through the building like an impending stampede. 

“Reid!” Jackson yelled, skidding around the corner. “Reid…_you listen to me_… I just saw the goddamn _weirdest_ thing I’ve ever seen…” He paused, looking around the room, clocking whose company he shared. “_Shit_, even weirder looking than _you_, Benito, and that sure is saying somethin’!”

“Well—” Bennet growled. “What did you see, man?!”

“It was... it was... _hell_... if we’re quick enough, maybe I can show ya for yourselves.”

Reid didn’t hesitate. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his bowler from its stand. Bennet and Jackson, of course, faithfully trailed right behind him, thundering down the stairs in their usual collective. Barging out of H-Division, the station doors swinging as they disappeared into the busy street, dust kicking up at their heels.

“Such manners you fine gentleman have...” Best murmured to himself, still sitting in Reid’s, now empty, office. He straightened his cravat, and snuffed his cigarette out under foot.

“I shall just see myself out, then, _shall_ I?"

*******

“I saw ‘em just over here...” Jackson pointed. “Hovering around. Talking to themselves. They seemed to be, _I don’t know_... on a mission.”

_“They?”_ Reid looked puzzled. “By Best’s account, there was only _one._”

“Only one who stood out as odd, Reid. The guy with golden skin, kooky yellow eyes.But the others he was with, could have been anyone. I didn’t notice anything unusual, _well_ — _apart_ from some weird lookin’ reading glasses, and, I guess... the fact that they seemed so at ease around someone who looked like he was from another planet.”

“_And —_ you say they were sniffing’ about, Captain. How so?”

The three of them shuffled off to the side of the lane, making way for a passing horse and carriage.

“They were peering in the windows. Muttering amongst themselves. Nodding. Looking at a map. Hell — as crazy as it sounds, Reid, there was something... futuristic... about them.”

Reid raised his eyebrows, and clung to his lapels. It dawned on him that he’d not been back there, to _this_ particular spot, in _this_ particular lane, since... all those years ago.

“It’s a bit odd, is it not sir, that they were sniffing’ about here? Of all places? The place where Ripper killed—”

“Mary Jane Kelly. His last victim. Yes, Bennet. It is odd, indeed. One wonders why they would be in such a place. Why here? Why sniffing about, _here_?”

“Reid... _psst_... Reid!” Jackson nudged Edmund right in the ribs. Perturbed, he turned around to see, right across the street, the very man with golden skin and yellow eyes that Jackson _and_ Best had reported.

“I told ya. There they are... _look!_”

Together, the three of them surreptitiously edged closer, watching the odd trio exit the public house. Two men, and one woman. She walked ahead, brandishing some kind of device, whilst the men, trailed behind, chatting to themselves.

Reid watched them with wild eyes. "_With me...”_ he whispered, pressing down on his bowler.

The chase was afoot.

*******

“_Goddamnit_ Reid, we’ve been following them for nearly an hour. Let me just go and talk to them, ask ‘em where they’re from, and what brings ‘em to Whitechapel”.

“_No, _Captain. _We wait._ For reasons unknown, I have a feeling they will lead us somewhere that will tell us the answers we seek. The answers to something... bigger.”

Jackson rolled his eyes, and readjusted his hat. Sweat soaked his hair, and dribbled down his temples, into the wiry bushes of his side-burns. His usual stench of whiskey and cheap tobacco mixed with the salty perspiration.

“_Another _hunch of yours? Well that’s just_ great,_ Reid, but I’ve got dinner with the lady tonight, and she’s going to give me an earful if I ain’t home soon.”

“But I will _need _you, Captain. There is three of them. Three of us. If you leave, we will be outnumbered if a confrontation should occur.”

Jackson glared daggers at the Inspector, but obliged._ Dutifully, _but certainly not _politely. _He meandered behind as Reid and Bennet continued on the pursuit, as slow as it were, pulling faces behind their backs and muttering to himself in frustration.

On they went, as over their shoulders, the sun begun to set — washing Whitechapel over with muted hues — when, seemingly out of nowhere, an archway appeared. It looked mechanical. Odd. Conspicuously out of place.

The three of them stopped in their tracks, watching as those they pursued, walked straight through and into what appeared to be a room of sorts — some kind of unknown oblivion. 

“Quickly!” Reid shouted, too close to be deterred. 

“We cannot lose them now!”

*******

Data seemed to be the only one to notice that they had been followed out of the holodeck.

He slowly turned, staring at the unfamiliar men with a side-eyed glare, taking the prop pipe from his mouth.

Most unbeknownst to them, Jackson, Reid and Drake were now standing in the halls of the USS-Enterprise, hurtling at a wondrous speed through space. Officially having crossed the threshold.

“_You! _Name yourselves!” Edmund roared, refusing to miss a beat. He may have been in _highly _unfamiliar territory, void of his bearings, but that man was pathologically incapable of permitting distraction in the midst of a pursuit. Bloodhound that he were, standing tall over them, all shoulders and intimidating stares.

Bennet, too, stood right by his superior, trying to aid in cornering them in, a smarmy look on his face. Ready, as always, to put up his roughed fists if duty called.

Data blinked, cocking his head to the side, calculating what best to do. “Geordi... it would appear that the holodeck has encountered a malfunction.”

“Yeah... “Geordi nodded. “I think you’d sure be right in saying _that_, Data”. He stared at the strangers in astonishment. “They should _not_ be in here. How did the computer allow—”

But the Inspector’s patience had worn thin. He lunged forth, grabbing Data and pushing him up against the wall. “Answer me, man!” He yelled — that guttural rage grumbling from his throat. Spit sprayed onto Data’s face. “Who are you?! What brought you to Whitechapel!?"

Geordi quickly tapped his combadge before jumping in to try and seperate the men. “Security to holodeck 4J!”. He copped a gutsy punch from Drake before he got much further, however, and fell to the ground.

With an effortless push, Data sent Reid and Bennet flying though the air — the Inspector soaring backwards, plonking down on his tail bone, bouncing indignantly. Drake, on the other hand, smashed into a hallway panel, cracking it into several pieces.

An utterly stunned expression took over Edmund’s face as he realised what had just happened — how far they had both been thrown, and with seemingly so little effort.

Pure bafflement.

He scratched his head in an embarrassed fluster, and looked around for both Bennet, and his beloved bowler hat, which had rolled away. Neither men were particularly eager to get back to their feet. Neither men knew where the hell they even _were._

“Bennet... _Bennet_ are you alright?”

“As alright as I can be, Inspector...”

Not far down the hall, Captain Jackson wandered around unfazed — conveniently having avoided the scuffle. He was far too distracted by his new, unexpected surroundings.

Tilting his hat slightly back, he scratched at his sweaty forehead, a look of awe and wonderment upon his face. A freshly lit cigarette clung to his mouth. “Would you god darn look at that...” He whispered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched a door in front of him automatically open and close, over and over, completely unaware that he stood right by the sensor. _Completely unaware,_ what a sensor even _was._

“Excuse me, sir.” Data paused from tending to Geordi, and strode over to Jackson. Each step, his usual mechanical precision.“Smoking is strictly forbidden upon the Enterprise. I will need to ask you to extinguish that immediately, before the smoke detectors are activated and—”

A high pitched alarm began to ring — a pulsating screech — cutting him off. Jackson stared at the man before him, at his shimmering golden skin and electric-yellow eyes, amazed, unable to find a single thing to say.

Seconds later, half a dozen security officers arrived, brandishing their phasers, at the ready if needs be, and set to stun.

They were cornered, outnumbered... and _positively_ discombobulated.

*******

“_Mimi? _What the _hell_ are you doin’ here?_” _

Jackson rushed over to Miss Morton, who sat, peacefully gazing out the window — staring into the endless blackness of stretching stars.

The doors to the holding bay locked behind them, but they hardly took notice. How could they, when out there, was... _that. _

Everything, and nothing.

When Edmund saw the window, and what it revealed yonder, his jaw dropped. He took off his bowler, clasping it in his trembling hand, and took slow, steady, steps forward.

Mesmerised.

Upon reaching the window, he raised his knuckle and gave the glass a gentle tap, as if to confirm it was, most certainly, real. Palpable. _Of this world._

A light fog formed in small circles on the window each time he exhaled, getting as close to the glass as he possibly could. Eyes, wide and transfixed. The brightest blue they had ever been.

“Good heavens...” He whispered. “Space... it is... _space..._”

Mimi answered, without so much as turning her head. “Yes, so it would seem, Inspector, and it is...” she trailed off for a moment. “It is... _most _extraordinarily beautiful.”

Collectively, they stared out in silence, hypnotised.

The low background hum of the ship’s engine, a distant purr.

Their initial peace, however, was short-lived. “_Nope... nope..._ ” Jackson declared, clutching his head in his hands.

“_Goddamn _it!” Off came his satchel. He started pacing. Then laughing rather manically.

“OK... OK... _this..._ “ He pointed out the window, into the sheer vastness — of planets and black holes and galaxies. The lifeforms too many to count. Lifeforms they not yet knew a thing _about._ Light-years upon light-years of an endless sea of stars.

“_This _ain’t real. _Shit! _It can’t be. This... I must have taken some peyote, and this is just one _hell_ of a trip. Reid... I’m... I’m in my dead room.” He started nodding to himself, making sense of it all. “... high as a kite because of some cocktail you’ve got me on. You son of a bitch!”

“Well then, Jackson, we _all_ must have taken peyote, or what ever such thing it is you propose” Reid didn’t break his gaze from the window. From what was beyond. “As it would appear we are all here, experiencing this together... are we... not?”

“_Hmm..._ yes.” Mimi whispered low, bringing some calm back into the room. “How very peculiar... ”

Bennet stood the furthest away from the glass — the barrier — and leaned up against a wall. Dizzy. Disorientated. So speechless he could hurl. He’d scarcely left the confines of East London. Now he was here? In _space? _His head almost imploded at the very thought of it.

The yankee continued to drawl. “OK... _fine._.. but _why_ is Mimi here? How do I know this ain’t just some figment of my imagination, _huh_?”

“Captain...” Reid raised his voice slightly. He turned to look Jackson in the eyes. “Calm yourself. _None_ of us know what has truly taken place, here, but I assure you — this is not a rouse, and we must keep of calm mind. If we are, indeed, in space, then—”

** _Fwosh._ **

The door behind them opened, interrupting them. Two men in red uniforms entered.

“Ah yes, hello...”

All but Mimi turned around. Still, she stared outward. Straight into the final frontier.

“I am Jean-Luc Picard, captain of this ship, and this is— ”

“Hang on a _goddamn_ second... Whaddya mean... _ship_?”

Picard smiled gently. “We will... explain all that shortly.” He turned and gestured towards Riker, who stood by his side, with one leg up on a chair. His usual, ridiculous power-pose.

Jackson examined Picard, looking up and down at his uniform, perplexed just by the sight of it. He couldn’t help himself from leaning in and giving Picard’s combadge an inquisitive flick, squinting down at the gold insignia. “What... what the_hell_ is that thing?”

Still at ease, Picard calmly shooed Jackson’s hand away. “As I said, we will explain all very shortly. This... is my First Officer, Commander William Riker...”

Riker nodded, clenching his cheekbones. Trying to look stoic. Commanding. Potent.

“We understand you may be somewhat surprised to find yourselves here, just as we are rather surprised by your arrival, also. I understand that you are... policemen?”

Right away, Edmund’s logic told him he should be suspicious of Picard’s politeness and professionalism. Of his agreeable nature. In all his experience, the outwardly pleasant were often the most calculating and cunning of suspects. Yet, despite his head telling him to remain on high alert— his gut, his _heart_ — was telling him otherwise. Telling him to trust.

As usual, however, he puffed up his chest and looked the smaller, balding man up and down, then whipped out his police badge, dangling it infront of Picard’s eyes. Force of habit.

“Detective Inspector Edmund Reid. _H_-Division. _And this.._.” He pointed. “Is Sergeant Bennet Drake, and Captain Homer Jackson... former US Army Surgeon, Pinkerton, and _my_ American...”

“I see.”

Riker’s eyes lit up when he noticed the pretty brunette, off in the corner, still staring all wide-eyed out the window.

“Who... is _that_?”

“That... “ She finally broke her gaze, shooting him a fierce stare. “Is Hermione Morton. _Miss _Morton, to the likes of strangers, thank you ever so much.”

Riker grinned wide, his eyebrows rising high.

“Yes yes, _well._ Mr. Edmund Reid — as you are their superior in rank, I think it best that you and I take a little walk, to... discuss some important matters. I appreciate that this must be a confusing time, and I’m sure you have many questions...” Picard put his hand on Edmund’s shoulder, to which he flinched. “_Please, _do not be alarmed. I ensure you, all will be explained, soon — and to _all_ of you. But, first, we must talk alone. I think that would be best.”

“_But_... what of my friends, here? Do you expect me to leave them and trust you will not bring harm to them? Do you give me _your word?_”

“_Absolutely." _Picard didn't hesitate, looking the Inspector right in the eyes. "You have it.”

A long pause. 

Edmund looked back at his American. At Drake, and Miss Morton, sitting there, confused, amazed, and — he assumed — also, frankly, just as scared as he. He then looked suspiciously across at Riker, who gave a neutral, yet warm smile back, this time, the corner of his mouth curling ever-so slightly.

“You _can _trust us, you know.”

In all the years that he had been in the police force, let alone all the years he had been head of H-Division, Edmund Reid had become exceptionally skilled in following his instincts. At being in-tune. Not _just_ skilled — but downright _gifted._

So, he listened to that feeling — a complex acknowledgement that there was very little options at hand, regardless, but also, a realisation that the only way out of this confusion was to go forward. To take a leap and trust these _complete_ strangers from space.

To boldly go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Comments and feedback always encouraged and highly appreciated. 
> 
> A quick note: as this is an AU / Crossover, I have edited some aspects of Star Trek lore, for example, giving the holding cell / brig windows, which, I realise is not canon.
> 
> There will be some minor alterations like this as the story continues.
> 
> Also: apologies for any formatting errors. I hope there is nothing too glaringly obvious. If so, please do let me know!


End file.
